


Sunsets and Samesies

by Still_Not_King



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (he gets it from his mother), (literally), 2019, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, David is an exception, Everything is the same except you see color when you meet your soulmate, Fluff, M/M, Open Fic Night Exchange, like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_Not_King/pseuds/Still_Not_King
Summary: David was 6 when he found out he'd inherited his mother's ability to see color - soulmate or no.Patrick doesn't believe in that whole rom-com romantic-soulmate nonsense.Everything in this world is different but, somehow, everything is exactly the same. :-)





	Sunsets and Samesies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilolay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilolay/gifts).



> Hi! This is my fulfillment for the Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night Exchange 2019 !!!!!
> 
> This is my first submission in a fic exchange, so I hope it's ok. Thanks for the prompt, @nilolay - you're amazing :-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!!

David was 6 years old when he realized the other kids couldn’t see color.

And that - apparently - neither could Miss Caldwell, his teacher.

(And that - apparently - this was a bit of a sore spot for Miss Caldwell).

 

“I don’t understand!” a tiny David Rose stomped his foot and put both hands on his hips. “All I asked was ask why nobody could tell the difference between the lavendar and the pink! They’re OBVIOUSLY totally different. I mean, I understand the other kids not knowing I mean they _obviously_ dress themselves, yeck. But-”

Moira cut her son off mid-babble, her attention finally drawn away from where she had been adjusting Eustace’s bangs in the mirror. “The what and the what, dear?”

David sighed a sigh much older than his years. “The lavender and the pink, Mom. Honestly.”

Moria blinked, face carefully blank.

”Darling, how did you come to perceive these differences in hue? Did some personage point them out to you, perhaps?”

The dark-haired boy frowned. “No, it’s just one’s a shade of purple and one’s… pink. Like… pink with blue in it.”

“Yes, but how do you _know_ that?”

David looked at his mother like she had three heads. “Um, because you’ve taught me my colors since I was born? I mean really, Mom. Says the lady who once talked about the benefits of maroon over magenta over an entire episode of X-men and made me late for a tap recital.”

Something twitched in Moira’s face and she didn’t even defend herself against David’s assertion, which solidified his certainty that something was wrong.

“Why are you asking me these questions, Mom?” He was so hesitant. Sometimes the grown-ups forgot he was little, but in that moment he was so clearly only six years old.

In lieu of a response, Moira gestured to herself. “Well, what color am I wearing right now?” she threw out like a challenge.

This David could do. “Gold,” he replied confidently.

“And my earrings?”

“Gold and ruby… red.”

“And the carpet?”

David smiled, still a little hesitant. “It’s green, Mom, which I honestly never understood but - what?”

Moira was looking at her brilliant, beautiful baby boy with a kind of heartbrokenly proud smile. “Ohhhh,” she lamented softly, gesturing for him to come closer. “It looks like you really do take more after your mama than they say.”

David stepped into his mother’s searching arms and laid his head on her shoulder. He enjoyed it but it terrified him - he was never allowed to… to… snuggle. “Mommy, what’s wrong with me?” he asked in a tiny voice. Dread clutched at him. Was he dying? Was she going to send him away? Moira stroked his hair with bejeweled fingers.

“No, babay, no,” she soothed. “There’s nothing wrong with you, do you understand? Nothing.” Her voice was soft and comforting, wrapped around a steely confidence David couldn’t help but believe held the ultimate truth. She really believed it, and she wanted him to know. He clung just a little tighter. “You’re all right, darling. You’re special, that’s all. Just like Mummy. Just like Grandma Josephine, and her mother before her.” She pulled him back and gripped his shoulders firmly, making his eyes meet hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you, do you understand?” She repeated seriously.

David sniffed and nodded. She nodded back once, then turned back to her vanity's mirror to play with Eustace’s position on her head some more. “I’ll have your father tell you all about soul mates when he gets home, dear. Obviously, that’s not my sort of thing…” She hesitated, smiling at him in the mirror. “Or yours, I suppose. But we MUST know how the rest of the world goes about their lives, now mustn’t we?” David nodded, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. His mother continued. “Now, in the meantime, do try not to talk about how you can see how beautiful the world is, darling. Everyone who sees it in black and greys like those horrible other children get frightfully jealous. As your granny used to say - better to pretend you’re ordinary than get burned as a witch!” She laughed lightly, and David left trying to figure out if his conversation with his mother had made him feel better or worse.

 

     It was nearly a week of standoffish looks and carefully monitoring his own words and actions for reasons he didn’t quite understand before Johnny set aside the time one evening to actually explain things to David. He sat down with his son, uncharacteristically paternal, and explained all about the phenomenon of soulmates. The idea that there was one - sometimes more than one, but odds weren’t great you’d find _one_ let alone many - person who you could meet and they would literally light up your world. When you met your soulmate, a world previously only percieved in shades of grey lit up in brilliant color. Something about your brain activating more rods in your eyes, he’d waved off the science because he’d seen his son’s eyes glazing over.

“But Dad, what does it mean that I can already see color?” was David’s desparate question. “Do I not have a soulmate? Mom said-”

"Do NOT listen to your mother when it comes to this, David. Do you hear me?" It was the first time David had ever seen his dad shut his mother's opinion down completely. He nodded.

“Your mother likes to think that her being born like this means she doesn’t need anyone, and it’s absolute nonsense, David. It’s hereditary, the being-able-to-see-colors thing. Alexis will probably be able to as well, once she gets old enough. It’s just a trait you’ve inherited from her side of the family, like how you’ve got my hair or Granny-Dee’s eye color.” He’d looked at his son seriously. “It doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate out there. It doesn’t mean you won’t find that person that lights you up. You’ll just know because of how you feel, not what you see.”

“Are you and Mom…” the little boy was so hesitant, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. His father’s small smile was nearly all the answer he needed, though.

“Yes, son. The moment your mother walked up to me and shook my hand, my world lit up brighter than I’d ever imagined. We’ve never looked back. And just because it didn’t happen to her doesn’t mean I love her more - we’re equal. No matter what anyone says about any quirk of biology on your mom’s side.”

David smiled one of his rare, toothy grins and hugged his dad with all the enthusiasm a 6-year-old could muster. “Thanks Daddy,” he mumbled into Johnny’s collar as his Dad squeezed him back.

 

************

 

    Johnny couldn’t know how comforting his words would be for David. As he grew into his teens, David became more and more self-conscious of his ability to perceive color. Accidentally letting it slip once when he was 14 had led to a solid eight months of friends and “friends” alike badgering him about it, lamenting to him how it was “so tragic”, or otherwise generally being assholes about it on purpose or not. As high school slipped away and friends he’d had in boarding school slipped off into the wind, he found it easier to hide the truth. He stuck to black, white, and shades of grey in his wardrobe. (He couldn’t bring himself to purposefully mismatch colors like he couldn’t see, but the questioning eyebrows he received from other soulmated pairs when they noticed his matching tie and pocket square or correctly accented shoelaces were too much, too much, _too much_ so he elected to stick to monochrome). What David hadn’t counted on - and what Moira tried to understand but could never wrap her head around, having found Johnny so early into her adulthood - was just how much weight was put into finding your person as David got older. Not having the ability to know immediately whether the person he was with was _the one_ opened him up to a world of hurt as partner after partner took advantage of his situation. He’d learned early that flat-out asking “can you see color?” or “did you see anything different when you met me?” both came off as incredibly desperate and opened him up to being laughed at or pitied (neither of which felt terribly great). But that meant that he had to go around utterly ignoring his… difficulty. And that also meant trusting his _partner_ to be the one who opened up about everything. Which simply… never happened.

The closest he ever came to finding someone who he thought might understand was Sebastian Raine. (Goddamn Sebastian Raine, what an asshole). Looking through perfectly composed palates and beautiful vistas, David had thought that maybe he’d found someone. Maybe not someone who was his soulmate, but at least someone who would _understand._  Someone who lived life in a colorful world without having someone to share it with. Without a tragic backstory or other emotional trauma to unpack about _why_ they could see color but weren’t with anyone. Someone else who just… was.

Well that’d been a crock of shit, hadn’t it.

    Raine had learned that David’s “condition” was genetic and subsequently couldn’t find it in himself to waste an opportunity to mention “their situation” to as many people as he could. It was like a piece of David was flayed away each time Sebastian sadly clucked his tongue and announced how lucky two “broken” people such as themselves were able to take solace in one another. (He had conveniently forgotten to mention he’d knocked up his soulmate at 17 back when he was still Brendan Hoyle, left her with the kid and a broken heart to “follow his passion” and change his name, and generally spend a lifetime douche-ing his way around whatever social circle he thought would let him climb higher on into the social stratosphere).

    After Sebastian, David had resigned himself to never mention it to anyone again. And when they moved to Schitt’s Creek, well… As much as the overall situation blew giant donkey-balls, he was free in a way he’d never been while still bumping elbows with friends of friends of friends who knew what a freak of nature he was. Suddenly he had a whole group of people he’d never need to worry about finding out through the gossip chain that Poor David Rose Had Always Seen Color, What a Gift/Curse/Freak. So he stuck to monochrome and never mentioned it. (Okay, so maybe he told Stevie. But that didn’t count. Because she was _Stevie_ so her reaction had been a thoughtful nod, an muttered “Huh, that’s weird,” and never mentioning it again - a move for which he was infinitely grateful.)

 

************

 

Patrick Brewer didn’t believe in the whole romantic soulmate shebang.

    Like, okay, yeah, he was sure they were out there for _some_ people. But he’d met half a dozen soulmated pairs in his life who weren’t even attracted to one another. And yes, all right, so his mom and his dad had paired up in their early teens over a basket of apples at the fair. But his Aunt Nona and Uncle Dan were the happiest, healthiest relationship he’d seen in his life and both of them still saw the world in shades of grey. His old boss, Mary? She’d met her soulmate in college and they were the best friends anyone could ever ask for. Aunts to one another’s kids, joint family vacations, the works! There were brothers he knew who were soulmates who’d been the best pitcher and first baseman the county had ever seen - they’d gone on to the minor leagues in fact. So no, Patrick didn’t believe in the whole romantic soulmate meet-cute nonsense you saw in the movies. In matter of fact, he thought it was a bunch of baloney.

 

    And then David fucking Rose walked in to Ray’s to sign some stupid fucking paperwork and his whole fucking worldview came crumbling down.

 

Patrick had just been having a normal day. He was sipping his coffee and catching up with the Elmdale newspaper, and then Ray was calling him and he rounded a corner and BAM.

“This is for you,” some guy said and handed him a piece of paper. He was tall, and dressed in black and white. But everyone dressed in shades of grey, right? He put on his customer service smile and shook the guy’s hand.

“Patrick,” he introduced himself.

“David.” They let go and something like butterflies started in Patrick’s stomach. He remembered seeing this guy's name on his schedule, though.

“David Rose! You bought the general store.” That was when it happened. That warm feeling that had started in with the butterflies crept in and around the edges of his vision. Something… warm? Could he _actually see_ the feeling of _warm_?

“Leased,” David had replied, and Patrick couldn’t think of anything clever to say so he let his enthusiasm for what was obviously a big move for the man in front of him - David - lead the conversation.

 

He hardly remembered the rest of their interaction that day. All he could remember when David left was warm, warm, warm and the butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint what had happened, besides maybe the weirdest migraine he’d ever had. But it didn’t hurt - quite the opposite. He just kept… staring. The conversation was short and enjoyable, and the whole time this warm _thing_ is creeping into the entirety of his field of vision and he just couldn’t stop _looking_. He had been 1000% certain he’d weirded out poor David Rose and would never hear from him again, though he desperately hoped he was wrong. And when the man in black and white with a decidedly warm skin tone - he needed to find another word - had left, he'd practically run to his computer and started down a google rabbit-hole trying to figure out what was happening.

He happened onto a site that said “Color Variance Eye Test” and clicked on it, hoping it wasn’t one of those weird “what kind of toast would you be” type personality things. Turns out it was hosted by the CDC and, nearly 20 minutes later, Patrick sat back with the confusing results in front of him. “Congratulations! You can see 98% red-spectrum, 54% blue-spectrum, 23% green-spectrum colors! This tells us you are DEVELOPING color vision. You have probably RECENTLY met your soul-match, but have had LIMITED physical contact with them. Don’t worry, this process takes time for everyone. Some soul-matches take 2-6 months to develop full-color vision while others take less than two hours.” Patrick needed to take a walk.

He came back later to several long, rambling voicemails from David Rose. ( _He’s the one_ , a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his head, but Patrick chose to ignore it.) He filled out the business incorporation paperwork - this was actually a really good freaking idea, especially for this market - and tried not to think of what it meant that David hadn’t mentioned anything about their burgeoning abilities to see colors. When the same man showed up later in the evening, Patrick waited with baited breath to see if he would mention it but… nothing.

Maybe… maybe it’d take a while. The website said it sometimes took months, and Patrick sure as heck hadn’t realized what was happening at first. Maybe it’d just take David some time. Besides, it wasn’t like he was… maybe they were supposed to be excellent friends, or… or business partners!

 

****************

 

Months past, and Patrick was more and more sure that this whole “platonic soulmates with David Rose” was just a line he was feeding himself. Every time he was near David his world lit up - figuratively, physically… that one time literally, before his youtube-inspired lighting flickered out. And yet the other man hadn’t said a word one way or the other. Sure, he got the idea sometimes that David was interested in him in a more-than-platonic sort of way. But he was always so careful in his actions and words. (For a man who exuded an aura of carelessness and ease, it didn’t take much digging to realize how closely David self-edited in real-time). The unknown of it all drive him up the wall until one night, staring into the beginnings of a sunset he hadn’t realized he couldn’t see when he started these hikes, Patrick made the decision to ask him about it. Maybe not directly, but to test the waters. _Who knows_ , he thought in a moment of sudden clarity, _I don’t exactly come off as interested in guys. Maybe… maybe he’s just as confused as I am._

He decided to ask the next morning, stocking the store. He took a deep breath and decided to approach things from an oblique angle, playing it safe.

“So… you… you always wear black and white… right? Why is that?”

David froze, hand midway to a shelf with a rather smelly cranberry candle, and blinked for a second. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and placed the candle where it was supposed to be. “I, uh… I don’t want to stand out,” he replied cagily. His heart was fluttering in his chest like it did that one time he had a panic attack, but he took a calming breath and looked across the store. Patrick’s eyebrows were knit in confusion. Well… it was now or never. “I’ve always been able to… uh…” He looked up at the ceiling, willing himself not to tear up at an utterly unexpected flood of adrenaline, and reminding himself that this was Patrick. _Patrick_. Nobody - and that _included_ Stevie - had ever been a solid and caring and accepting a presence in his life as Patrick. Even if he was fighting a stupid crush, his business partner had at least earned enough trust to be told this. “I uh…, okay, wasn’t expecting to have _this_ conversation on a Wednesday morning.” He laughed despite himself and took another, steadying breath. Patrick was suddenly much closer, hand hovering comfortingly near his upper arm. David stared at that hand.

“I’ve always been able to see color,” he blurted out. He heard more than saw Patrick’s quick intake of breath, and plowed on. “Mom too. Alexis… Alexis can see blues but that’s it. Well... “ he trailed off, but better not to chase tangents in the moment. He raised his eyes to Patrick’s face, seeing only a sad smile and a bit of concern. Not the pity or disgust he’d been mentally preparing for, thank god. “It’s a genetic thing, apparently. I… Mom told me her grandma and mom both could.” He huffed a laugh. “Well, she actually told me her three-times-great-grandma was burned at the stake for it, but that may or may not have been to keep me from criticizing her palate choices…”

 

Patrick rubbed a comforting hand up and down over the arm of David’s sweater. “That’s why you wear these? So… so people who can see can’t tell?”

David nodded, only a little miserably. “I got enough shit for it be-before. Pity, people thinking they could take advantage… I thought, when we got here. Well… at least nobody knows, y’know?” His lips quirked sideways in a reluctant smirk. “But oh my god, now that you know - at least now I can ask how you always - _always_ \- manage to dress in shades of blue? I mean God, Patrick, it’s like you went into a store and just cleared out a section. What, do they all look the same to you? How? How do you not at least do a pattern?” He plucked at the front of Patrick’s button-down in a familiar gesture.

Patrick smiled. _This isn’t the time_. “I dunno, I guess it’s just what my Dad always wore so I started emulating him when I could buy my own stuff. It’s just clothes, after all,” he added casually. He knew that last jab would snag, and it did.

“ _JUST_ Clothes??” David was scandalized and delighted, falling back into their usual rapport easily. It seemed like Patrick’s rolling with the news had done wonders for his state of mind.

 

Later, counting cash from the drawer, Patrick let his mind wander. _He doesn’t know. He couldn’t, and he doesn’t know I’m interested because I’ve never…_ He toyed briefly with the idea of telling David he had been Patrick’s window into a technicolor world, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it popped up. David had been burned, had been lied to, had been taken for granted by everyone in his life at some point. Patrick wouldn’t do that to him as well. He’d let David make his own choice, no “oh hey, bee-tee-double-you you’re my Soulmate(™) and I’m probably mostly in love with you already, Ta Daa” pressure. But since David had _no_ idea about the colors thing, and Patrick had made _no_ move so far, well… he’d just have to ask him out, wouldn’t he!

 

The opportunity came sooner than he expected, with an off-hand comment about a birthday and a mixup and an oh-so-meaningful receipt. In the end, David made his choice loud and clear. Soulmates or no, they were gonna be happy damn-it.

 

 

Some more time passed.

 

 

Patrick still hadn’t told David he lived in a colorful world, though he became less and less conscious of hiding it. It was true, and if someone figured it out, good for them. It didn’t really factor into their relationship, built as it was on love and trust and everything good instead of some idea of pre-ordained compatibility. Everything seemed right and good and easy in a way it never had before and Patrick wasn’t sure if it was because of David, or because David was a man, or because David (a man) was his soulmate, but he solidly did not care one whit. Unfortunately, they were fast approaching a nebulous deadline where his unwillingness to mention his color-vision would step over the line from politely-not-mentioning to actively-keeping-from and he wasn’t terribly keen on any lies being woven into the foundation of their relationship. Not when everything else was so… healthy. So he started to look out for an opportunity.

 

David had been anxious about the open mic night from its genesis. That had been apparent from his initial hesitation, and Patrick knew he hadn’t made things any better with his teasing the guitar earlier. He didn’t know David’s anxiety had ramped up _this_ much, though. He felt a little bad, actually, staring at the bright orange flames covering his boyfriend’s sweatshirt. David only wore colors when he was feeling especially vulnerable - like his own private reminder that he was himself no matter what. Patrick was equal parts entranced and self-conscious of his inability to tear his eyes away from the bright spot David made in the back of the room. As he hopped onstage and started tuning his guitar, all eyes were on him. He really only cared about two. He’d worked on this song for a few days, fiddling around with it in his spare time, thinking of a time he’d sing for David and now he got to perform for the first time in front of everyone. It was exhilarating and exciting, and he hoped it would convey what he needed it to. To make David _believe_ him...

“All right, um…” He plucked idyly at the strings, a flush of nerves going through him all at once. “I would like to dedicate this song to a very special someone in my life,” he began, scanning the crowd. Then, after a pause (because he could practically hear David thinking _don’t say my name don’t say my name_ at him from all the way at the back and he couldn’t help himself), he made eye contact with the object of his affection and - “David Rose.”

He could see David collapse into himself just a little, but in no meaningful way. Affection chased the nerves right out of Patrick, and all he felt was grateful he’d they’d met. He kept speaking into the mic, fondness practically dripping from his tone. “There he is, right there. That’s him,” he rambled, “Can’t miss him.”

He didn’t miss Mrs. Rose’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline as she darted a glance to David’s loud, orange sweatshirt at his comment and Patrick felt his face heat up. _Oh well_ , he thought, _cat’s outta the bag now_. He began to sing.

*

*

*

Applause died down and he introduced the next act, then made his way to the back to lean against the counter with David. They were close enough their elbows were bumping, not facing one another but stealing looks sideways at one another. Finally, Patrick took a deep breath and leaned in so he was speaking softly into David’s ear. He plucked at the orange sleeve with his fingertips. “Is this new?” he started cautiously. David smirked his sideways smirk.

“Not really. I just don’t wear it… often.”

Patrick smiled. “I figured. I’d have remembered you in something this bright.” He smiled softly and met David’s eyes. “You look like a sunset.”

David scoffed immediately, before the implications of what had been said sunk in. He whipped his head back around to stare at Patrick’s face, studying it intensely. Patrick wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but he just looked back at David like he always did. “You-” David started, but suddenly there was clapping and Patrick had to bound back onstage to introduce the next act. (On the plus side, it was Bob and his beat poetry, so they had at least 10 minutes). David pulled Patrick not-inconspicuously into the stock room as soon as he returned.

Once behind the relative privacy of the curtain, David put both hands on Patrick’s shoulders and looked him square in the face.

“What did you say to be just now?” he demanded, slightly unsure and so, so cautiously happy it practically pulled Patrick inside-out.

“I said you look like a sunset,” he repeated.

David blinked. Then he blinked again. “How, How, How do you know what, uh… what a-”

“Because you walked into my office and red was one of the first colors I could see. I didn’t know what it was. It was just… warm. You were warm.” He smiled at the memory. “It was nice, even if I wasn’t sure if I was having a stroke or not.”

David let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You… so we’re… oh my god.” He leaned into Patrick and wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face into Patrick’s neck. Patrick pressed a kiss into the side of David’s neck and clung to his waist. “I didn’t want to say anything at first… we could have just been friends, or business partners… but then you told me you’d been able to see all your life and I thought.”

David hiccuped a happy little laugh into Patrick’s shoulder.

“I wanted to give you a choice,” he finished quietly, nuzzling into David’s shoulder and squeezing him even tighter.

David stood up, fanning his face with both hands and looking up, obviously to keep himself together. “Nobody’s ever… Nobody’s… ever-”

Patrick smiled a little sadly and grabbed David’s shoulders firmly. “I know,” he soothed gently. He moved a hand to stroke through the hair on the side of David’s head and brought him in for a kiss.

It was grounding, and firm, and sweet, and just a little wet. Basically, it was the same as any number of other kisses they’d shared in this back room. And that was possibly the best part.

 

Nothing had changed.

 

David was leaning in, trying to deepen the kiss when there was suddenly a smattering of clapping and Patrick reluctantly pulled away from David, who shooed him out with his hands. “I’ll be out in a minute. Have to powder my nose,” he smiled, sniffling just a little. Patrick beamed back at him, then disappeared through the curtain.

David stood in the dark for a moment, processing. He grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt, looking down at the colorful pattern with new eyes. Yes, he was definitely going to wear colors a bit more often now. Because now, when people noticed? Now, he could point to Patrick Brewer and say “Him. He’s the one. He lights up my life.” And even if it wasn’t in the way everyone thought, that didn’t make it any less true.

 


End file.
